


159 - The Only Exception (by Paramore)

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert, Songfic NonCatfish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 09:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17403953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “a fic based on the song "the only exception” by paramore ? Where Van asks the reader to marry him but she’s not so sure of it, and she asks him for a break to think about it but at the end she realizes that Van is the right one for her.“





	159 - The Only Exception (by Paramore)

He was down on one knee. To Van's credit, he knew to keep it lowkey. Did the quiet dinner at home imply he knew what your answer would be? That he'd not given an audience to his heartbreak? Or did he think that a casual setting would keep you calm and result in a better outcome? It didn't really matter what Van thought. He'd asked you to marry him and it ruined everything.

"No."

Obviously. Obviously no. You'd told him that if he asked you'd say no. You told him about your parents. About how your child self watched, hidden in cupboards and listening through closed doors, as your father cried and swore and broke furniture in the wake of the divorce. Van knew that even dating someone as disgustingly romantic as him was a risk. Why did he think a proposal was a good idea?

"But… I love you," he said, trying to keep a straight face.

"I… I don't love you. This whole thing is… it's stupid, Van. Get up," you ordered, standing yourself. Instead of following, his other leg dropped and he was kneeling on the ground, defeated.

"What's stupid?"

"You and me. This. Love. All of it. It's not real. It's just… It's just what we're told we have to do to be normal. It's just a way to try to not feel so fucking lonely, but it's not real. Love doesn't exist, Van," you were speaking way too fast to be talking in truths. He didn't believe what you were saying, but it didn't stop him from crumbling. As he started to cry, you took three steps back. "I'm going to go… and I think… it's just better if you don't call, okay? Like, for your own sake. You should find someone else or something. I don't know. Um. Okay. Bye, Van."

You walked from the room, leaving him on the floor. Whatever of your possessions that were in his house, they were his now. You'd not go back. Luckily, there weren't many things. Deep in your soul, you had convinced yourself that love never lasts, and that belief had wormed its way into all sorts of small behaviours. Not leaving things at his. Saying "me too" instead of "I love you too" in replies. You'd just always lived like that, keeping a comfortable distance from people.

…

The only phone call you picked up was your mum. She was calling from somewhere in the world. You hardly saw her after your parents' divorce, and when you grew up and moved out of your father’s house, you still didn't see her much. She had a new life, one that still didn't feature romance. You told her that you'd broken up with Van and she's dutifully asked why.

"Um… He asked me to marry him,"

"He what? We'll that's stupid,"

"Yeah. What I said,"

"Well, it was never going to work out. The boy is an air head. You're too clever for him,"

"What? Van's not stupid, Mum," you said angrily. "He's literally the most determined and switched on person I know. He works out what he wants, and he gets it. He knows so much about music, and he like, just understands people. He can describe what emotions feel like better than anyone else. He's not an air head,"

"Well… You certainly have a lot to say about a boy you just broke up with," she replied, huffy. "I didn't mean to upset you, Y/N. I just don't want you to get hurt like I did,"

"I know. I fucking know, Mum. Love sucks. Heartbreak is forever. I know. Why do you tell me that all the time?"

"I just don't want you to forget,"

"No, you don't want you to forget. Fuck. Maybe if you and Dad had a normal divorce and not made it some fucking dramatic tragic lifelong event, I would have been more normal," you said. Your voice wasn't a yell yet, but it was louder than it needed to be for a phone call, and it was heavy with anger and hurt and resentment.

"We tried our best, Y/N,"

"Yeah, well… in all that not loving Dad bullshit you forgot to love me too, apparently, 'cause now I don't know how to do… any of it…" 

You'd never even joined the dots of your psychology like that. You'd never thought that maybe when your parents gave up romantic love, that their capacity to model it to you diminished to the point where you'd never be alright. And it didn't have to be like that. Half your friends had divorced parents, and they weren't like you. They knew how to love and how to accept love. They hadn't decided to be content with loneliness. They'd not given up the best fucking thing that could have happened to them.

After apologising to your mum when you really didn’t have to, you hung up and immediately found Van's name in your contacts.

…

When you opened the door to your apartment, Van stormed in, not stopping to look at you.

"What do you want, Y/N? I don't want to be here any longer than I have to. Got things to do. What couldn't you say over the phone?"

He started to pace, his arms folded across his chest. He was still avoiding looking at you. He was a ball of rage and hurt and if you said the wrong thing he'd explode. You walked from the entrance into the living room and sat on the couch. Van took a second to follow. Instead of sitting next to you, near you at all, he perched on the windowsill. He lit a cigarette and smoked through the window. It gave him something to focus on.

"I wanted… To say that I'm sorry," you were whispering. Van scoffed. You ignored it, tried not to feel hurt. "I… I don't want to explain everything again. You know about my parents, and what it was like a kid. You've met Dad… Seen how fucked up he still is. I just… I assumed you'd understand how that affected me, I guess? When you know relationships can end like that, it just doesn’t seem worth the risk. But… I don't want to end up like Mum. She's so… I don't know. Pretends that she is fine how she is but she's lonely and sad and it's killing her and I don't want to be like that. And I don't want to end up like Dad either, but that could only happen if we break up and maybe… maybe we won't?" You looked up to see if Van was still on the defence. His cigarette was burning but not inhaled. Ashes still clung to it, not falling because he'd not moved. He was watching you with wide eyes and lips parted. There was hope in his expression but he was terrified of you still. "Maybe… I can start to believe that this is real?"

Van let the cigarette fall out the window as he stood and moved to you quickly. He pulled you off the couch and held your face in his hands. "You're not gonna start believing, Y/N, 'cause you already do. You believe it 'cause you feel it. The world isn't full of fuckin' heartbreak and we're the only exception. People stay together and get married and have kids and live happily ever after. That's real. Happens all the goddamn time. And you believe that. I know you do. So, just fucking marry me already, yeah?"

You laughed and tried to shake your head but he was still holding it. He grinned and kissed you and you kissed back.

"I'm gonna need a little more time on the whole marriage thing… But babies! Babies we can talk about," you said in the short bursts of time Van's lips weren't attached to yours.

"What?! How does that make any sense?"

"Do you not want babies with me?" you replied in a melodramatically sad voice. You pouted.

"Yes. I want a million babies. Come on, let's start right now," he replied as he picked you up like a bride and carried you off to the bedroom. He normally slung you over his shoulder, so the act wasn't void of symbolism. You kicked your legs and squirmed in his arms.

"You're pushing it, mister,"

"Don't know what you mean, love," he replied with his signature cheeky grin.Van kicked the bedroom door behind him and it closed with a slam.


End file.
